


The Hunter Diaries

by waywardrose13



Series: The Hunter Diaries [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Fanfic, Plus Size!Reader, SPN - Freeform, Series, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchester - Freeform, plus size, supernatural fanfiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 22:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16900887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose13/pseuds/waywardrose13
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester had been your best friends for as long as you could remember. Being Bobby Singer’s adoptive daughter, it was sort of inevitable to know the brothers. You knew you’ve had a crush on the elder brother for a long time, but you always thought nothing would happen between the two of you. You’re not the picture perfect model and you aren’t the image every girl strives to be. But maybe, just maybe, you were wrong, and he’d like you too.This is a story of love, death and demons. A story about a girl who fell in love and hopes to survive long enough to act on it.





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

Today was no different than yesterday. The same trees outside my window and the same cloud over my head. With Carter’s death hanging over me, I can’t help but feel worthless. It was my fault, no matter what dad says. I should have been there for her but I wasn’t. Now she’s dead because of me.*

Your eyes began to tear at the thought of your best friend’s death. It’s been a week since you watched the flames engulf her pixie like body, and everyday you felt even worse, everyday another bottle or two of whisky stashed underneath your bed to hide them from your dad. He repeatedly told you it wasn’t your fault. But how were you supposed to believe that when she was killed by the demon who killed your biological parents, the demon who’d been tracking you for the last twenty-one years.

You slammed the leather bound diary closed and tossed it onto your bedside table. You were currently propped up against the headboard of your bed, staring outside into the cloudy day. You hadn’t left your bedroom for much, only to use the bathroom and get more booze. You hadn’t eaten in the last two and a half days and your stomach growled violently.

The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted up from the kitchen and you sighed. He never cooked. He was doing this for you.

You rolled out of bed and padded over to your door, opening it and stepping out into the hall, the smell even more prominent. You made your way down stairs and into the kitchen where your adoptive father, Bobby Singer, was at the stove flipping pancakes.

“Dad?” You rasped. Your throat was dry and your voice was hoarse due to lack of use over the past week. Bobby turned to look at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Hey, birdy,” He said. You smiled slightly when he called you by your nickname and went over to the small table. He brought a plate over to you and set it down in front of you. “It’s nice to see you up and around.”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. You took a bite of the fluffy pancake on your plate and moaned at the taste. Bobby chuckled and made his way back to the stove. He soon joined you and the two of you ate in a comfortable silence, the only sound the low hum of the rain pelting the world outside.

“So,” Bobby said clearing his throat. You looked up from your plate and raised an eyebrow. “The boys are coming over. They’ll be staying with us for awhile.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah. That’s alright with you?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah! Totally. I haven’t seen them in forever.” You smiled. You hadn’t seen your best friends in over a year. Whenever they’d drop by, you’d always end up being on a hunt with Carter. But you were finally going to see them. See him. Your heart swelled at the thought of the green eyed hunter and you found yourself genuinely smiling while you ate.

After breakfast, you went upstairs to take a quick shower and get ready for the day. You weren’t planning on going anywhere but the brothers would be at the house in a little less than two hours.

You washed and conditioned your hair, scrubbed your skin until it was pink and smelled of your lavender soap and shaved your legs. You stayed in the shower for longer than you needed to, allowing the scalding water to run over your muscles and loosen the tense knots.

It felt good, to actually look forward to something after a week of moping around. You were usually the smiling, kind hearted person in the house. The one who could cheer someone up with a single smile or make someone smile when you laughed. You automatically lit up the room with your personality, a trait Carter loved in you. But you hadn’t been that person lately.

You stepped out of the spray once it turned cold and wrapped yourself in a towel. Slipping back into your room across the hall from the bathroom, you flipped on the radio and began getting dressed into your outfit for the day.

You brushed and dried your long, Y/H/C hair, pulling it up into a ponytail at the crown of your head. You applied light makeup and took a peek in the mirror, frowning slightly at what you saw.

You crossed your arms around your middle, trying to find a way to hide how your shirt clung a little too tightly around your hips. You tried hiding one leg behind the other to see if that would help make your thighs appear smaller. It didn’t.

You were incredibly self conscience of the way you looked. You never were one of the “smaller” girls. You hated doing it, but you often compared yourself to Carter. She was small, with a flat stomach and slim legs. Your thighs were a bit too big and your hips were a little wider than you’d like. Not to mention the feeling you’d get when you saw the man you’d fallen in love with years ago flirt with other girls. Girls who were skinny, pretty and model material.

You sighed and shifted uncomfortably under your own gaze. Did you really think you’d have a chance with him? Honestly, you weren’t sure. You’d like to think he wasn’t all about looks. And to be frank, you weren’t bad looking. Actually, you were a very attractive woman. It was just your body men didn’t like.

The doorbell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Your heart fluttered in excitement and you immediately headed to your door. Throwing it open, you stepped out into the hallway and bounded down the stairs.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean’s voice echoed. You smiled at the sound and rounded the corner to see your dad and Dean embracing each other.

“How are you boys?” Bobby asked. He moved to Sam next.

“Not bad,” Sam said. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Bobby said.

“Guys!” You exclaimed. Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

A smile spread itself on Dean’s face and he rushed over to you, engulfing you in his embrace.

“God, I’ve missed you, Y/N/N,” He sighed. He kissed the top of your head and pulled back to smile down at you.

“Ditto,” You smiled.

“Don’t hog her, Dean,” Sam complained. He stepped back to let Sam take his place.

“It’s so good to see you guys,” You said. “You have no idea.”

“Bobby called a few days ago. He told us what happened,” Dean whispered. “I’m so sorry about Carter, Y/N.” He gave you a sympathetic smile and you sighed.

“Yeah. Me too.”

The night was spent catching up and reminiscing in old times. None of you had brought up Carter the entire night and it was nice to have something to take your mind off her. Being with your dad and the brothers was something that has always made you happy. Being able to laugh and be yourself.

“So, Y/N,” Sam began. You raised a questioning eyebrow at the youngest Winchester. “Anyone special you want to tell us about?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Nope.”

“Aw come on,” He whined. “There’s gotta be somebody.”

“No one,” You said. He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Dean asked. You shrugged.

“I don’t know,” You answered. “I guess no one is interested. But who would be?” The last words were quiet. You didn’t think anyone heard but you were wrong.

“Bullshit,” Dean growled. Your eyes widened a little at his tone. You looked over at Sam who just shrugged at his brother’s attitude. Everyone was focused on Dean who sat with his arms crossed. “You’re smart, you’re funny and you’re totally hot. Don’t tell me there’s no one interested.”

His words stunned you. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or if he was taunting you. He’d never said anything about the way you looked before. Not even to compliment the way you wore your hair one day or a t-shirt with a band he liked on it. He’d never given you two looks, so why the hell did he say that? Maybe it was the alcohol he had consumed. Yeah, that must be it. Because there was no way Dean Winchester could be interested in you.

“You’re drunk, Winchester,” You said. You forced a smile and rolled your eyes. He slumped in his seat and mumbled something under his breath. You didn’t like when people toyed with your feelings. You’ve had enough of that from from people in your past. And coming from Dean, it was just another stab to the heart.

Sam cleared his throat and stood from his position on the couch. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bobby yawned. “I’ll see you kids in the a.m.”

As Sam and Bobby made their way to the respective rooms, you stayed seated on the couch across from Dean. He was looking at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his green orbs flitting back and forth across your face.

“Did you really not believe what I said?” He asked suddenly. You looked back at him, your Y/E/C eyes locking with his. You sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions.

“Honestly? No,” You said. He scoffed.

“Why?”

“Look, Dean,” You said. “I’ve had enough people taunt me and I don’t need it coming from you, too.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He demanded. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. This was just plain mean.

“You can’t honestly believe that I’d take your words seriously,” You muttered.

“What? Kid, what are you saying?” He squinted at you in confusion.

“Don’t call me that.” You gritted your teeth. You hated when he called you kid. It made you feel weak.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “Now, please tell me what’s going on.”

You fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist. It had been your father’s, a simple leather bracelet with a single tiger’s eye bead. You never took it off, not since he died.

“What you said before,” You began. He cocked an eyebrow and kept his eyes on yours. “It’s hard to believe what you said when you’re… you and I’m me.” Your voice was low and soft, the tears in the back of your eyes betraying you, allowing one to flow down your cheek.

“What do you mean?” He asked. His voice was sincere, which confused you. He really didn’t know what you were talking about.

“I… I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” You stood up from the couch and made your way to the stairs.

“Y/N, wait!” Dean called behind you. He leaped up from the couch and towards you. He grasped onto your wrist and spun you around. “Please. Talk to me.”

“What’s the point, Dean? It’s not going to change how I look. It’s not going to change the fact that men don’t like women like me. Women with thick thighs and extra weight.” You said, the tears falling freely now.

“I that what this is about?” He whispered.You looked away, ashamed at what you said. But he cupped your cheek, turning your face to look at him. “Because that’s bullshit.”

“W-what?” You stammered. His face was dead serious, not a hint of sarcasm or bluff.

“You heard me. It’s bullshit and I never want to hear you talking about yourself like that ever again, you got that? You’re gorgeous.” He stressed. You nodded and the corners of his lips raised slightly. “Good.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips soft against your skin. He pulled away and brushed the baby hairs away from you face.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” He said.

“Goodnight.”

He walked past you and up the stairs, leaving you frozen and confused. What the hell was that? You touched the spot that Dean kissed, the skin still slightly tingly. Your heart was racing in your chest and your eyes were blown wide. You no longer felt that Dean was pulling on your leg. He seemed deadly serious when he said what he said. Maybe what he said was true. But it still seemed unlikely he’d ever want to be with you.

But a girl could dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary,

It’s been a week since the boys have arrived. After the first night, it seems almost as if Dean is avoiding me. He’s only said a few words to me and leaves the room when I enter it. I’m not sure what I did, but he seems pissed. I wonder if he regretted what he said.*

You set the pen and the diary down on your nightstand. You weren’t in any mood to write anymore. Your mind raced with thoughts about the past few days and you felt a bitter feeling towards Dean.

Why the hell was he acting this way towards you? Everything you wrote down was true; he was barely speaking to you and barely even looking at you. You couldn’t come up with a good reason as to why but you thought it probably had something to do with what he said to you the first night he arrived. Maybe he did regret it. Maybe he didn’t want to you to get the wrong idea and now was avoiding you.

You groaned and buried your face in your pillow. Why was this so complicated? Why were men so complicated? You weren’t exactly an expert in the men department so you weren’t sure what reasons could make him act this way. Carter would have known. This problem would have been resolved the very next day if she was still around.

You were chilling on one of the couches in the sitting room, a lore book in your lap and a beer in your hand. The house was quiet, just the occasional creak or straining sound of the old wood house. Sam and Bobby were out on a supply run and Dean was god knows where, not that that would concern you anyway.

Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t seen him all day. The impala was still out front but Dean was no where to be seen. That’s probably the point though.

Before you could think much more of the subject, Dean walked through the door. You looked up from your book and saw him glance once at you and then turn back to the door.

“Wait!” You said. You pushed the book off your lap and set the beer down. You got up from the couch and dashed after him. You went out through the door, the cold air hitting you hard.

Dean was walking away fast, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped. You ran after him, shivering by the time you finally caught up to him.

“Dean, stop,” You said. You clasped a hand onto his shoulder and turned him to face you. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard.

“What?” He snapped. You reeled back a bit, his tone and stance intimidating.

“I just,” You began. You weren’t sure how to word it. “I just wanted to…” Fuck it, you thought. You took a deep breath and gave him a matching expression. “Why the hell have you been ignoring me? You leave the room when I come in and you don’t talk to me. Did I do something to piss you off?”

“No,” He said.

“Then what? Why are you being such a douchebag to me?” You asked. You raised your shoulders and dropped them, bringing your hands to your sides and bringing them back down to slap against your thighs. “Why are you doing this? Because I’m lost, Dean.”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Look, Y/N,” He said. “You’re my best friend. And I said some stuff the other night and I realized I just can’t let you get close to me.”

“So, what? Were you lying about the stuff you said?” You asked. You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

“What? No, no of course not,” He said. He grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. “I meant everything I said. That’s why you need to get as far away from me as possible.”

“Why, Dean?” You whispered. “I don’t want that. I’ve already lost Carter. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I know, Y/N/N,” He said. “But you don’t understand. If I get close to you, you’re going to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, Dean.” You told him.

“I know,” He sighed. “But I’m not only talking about physically getting hurt.”

Now you were confused. What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t,” He said softly. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I can’t let you get close to me. Sam and I are leaving when he gets back.” Your heart clenched at his words. You didn’t want him to leave. That was the last thing you wanted.

“Dean, please don’t go,” You said.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But this is goodbye. Forever,” He said. His eyes were wet and you could tell he was holding back his tears. You weren’t doing a very good job of it yourself.

“What? No, Dean, please. Talk to me, why are you doing this?” You insisted. Tears were flowing steadily down your face. You wouldn’t be able to handle not seeing him again. You couldn’t. You cared so deeply for him. He was the only man you’d ever felt something like this for. He couldn’t just leave.

“I’m sorry,” He conceded. He bent down, pressing his lips to your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, then he pulled away from you and turned back to walk deeper into the sea of broken cars and parts. You stood still, watching as he walked off with teary eyes and a broken heart.

You were standing in front of the house. Bobby was inside, already given his goodbyes. Sam was in the car and Dean had finished putting the bags into the trunk. He closed it and walked over to you.

“So, this is goodbye, then,” You said. You crossed your arms and focused on his face.

“Yeah,” He murmured. You sighed and shook your head.

“So, what, you’re just gonna leave? With no explanation as to why you or Sam can never see me again? Oh, but you can see Bobby. Just not me,” You said bitterly.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off. He took a deep breath and cupped your cheek.

“This is hard on me, too,” He said. “Trust me. I’d give anything not to have to do this.”

“Then don’t!” You urged. You placed your hand over his on your face. “Please, Dean.”

“You don’t understand,” He said.

“You’re right, I don’t. So make me,” You told him.

“I can’t,” He admitted. “You’ll probably find out one day. But today isn’t that day.”

You shook your head and allowed a few tears to escape. You wanted to fight more for him to stay but then something happened that left you frozen.

Dean’s lips pressed softly to yours. It was an intimate gesture, one filled with passion and promise. His lips were soft against your own, the kiss gentle. It was a kiss that expressed how you felt for one another without words. His thumb ran along your cheekbone and your hands fell to his chest, fisting them in his shirt. And before it began, it ended, and he was pulling away. A single tear leaked from his own eye.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He said. He turned around and headed towards the car. You watched as he got behind the wheel and turned away from the house. You watched as the only man you’d ever loved drove away from you. You watched as Dean Winchester left you, taking your heart with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean revved the engine and pulled away from Bobby’s house. He watched with guilt filled eyes as you stood with your arms wrapped around your middle. He tried taking a mental picture of you, of your Y/H/C hair flowing in the light breeze, how your Y/E/C eyes shined in the mid afternoon sunlight. Leaving you was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever made. Seeing the sadness and disappointment in your eyes made his heart clench in his chest. But he couldn’t ignore the feelings bubbling within him, feelings that were completely foreign and shook him to the core.

This was the best thing to do to keep you safe. To keep you from falling for him and then having your heart crushed when he’s pulled away from you. You already lost Carter, the pixie like girl who was more of a sister than a friend to you. You couldn’t lose him too.

“It’s for the best, Dean,” Sam said. The youngest Winchester brother watched as his elder brother gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to keep his emotions at bay. He felt for him. Dean had never had feelings for someone like he had for you. Ever since they were teenagers, Sam knew Dean had liked you as more than a friend. It was in the way he looked at you. The way he acted around you. The way he talked about you.

But as he got older and as you got older, that teen crush turned into something deeper. Something that Dean never thought he would feel for someone. The worst part about it was that he was never going to get the chance to act on it. That he’d never get the chance to call you his. It broke his heart to know he must have broken yours. It broke his heart to know he would never see you again. He had a little less than three months left and all he wanted to do was spend them with you. But he wouldn’t die knowing he had led you on to his death. He wouldn’t hurt you more than he already has.

Over the next couple months, it was a blur of the brothers drowning themselves in cases and looking for ways to save Dean from the inevitable. Dean would think of you everyday, his guilt for leaving and lying to you eating away at him. He ignored the text messages and phone calls from you. He talked to Bobby and would hang up when he began talking about you. Anything and everything reminded him of you. The waitress at the diner he ate at the night before, the floral scent when he took a shortcut through a park to get to the coffee shop across the way, even the damn flannel a stranger was wearing, the colors the same as your eyes.

He tried everything to try to forget you. He’d fuck anyone who threw themselves his way, he gotten rid of anything you’d ever gotten him. His heart was screaming at him, horribly craving the care you’d give him. But he still couldn’t do it to you.

But eventually the phone calls and messages stopped. He knew you had given up. And with the help of the bar skanks and hard liquor, he had too.

And then he saw you. You were walking down the sidewalk in a small town in Tennessee. He knew you must have been there for the same reason he and Sam was, the vengeful spirit at a local hospital. He was in the impala, listening to a cassette and drumming his fingers on the wheel when he saw a Y/H/C haired woman turn the corner. His breath caught in his throat when the sudden emotions he spent so long trying to bury with girls and alcohol came bubbling to the surface. It was in the way you carried yourself, the slight sway in your hips and the way your shoulders were straight and confident that made him weak in the knees. If he were standing, he would have buckled to the ground. You hadn’t seen him, having gone into a sandwich shop.

He was so tempted to run in after you. To grab you and crush you to him in a bone crushing hug. He debated with himself for almost ten minutes before you walked back out with a bag in your hand. You turned your back on him and walked back down the sidewalk. He watched with a torn head, follow after you or stay true to his promise to himself. But before he could act on either option, you turned down the street and disappeared around the corner.

Dean peeled away from his spot faster than you could say “dumbass.”

Two weeks away from the day he was supposed to bite the dust. He was lounging in he and Sam’s motel room when he heard your voice. He’d know your voice anywhere. And it sounded pissed. The sound of a door slamming got him up out of his position on the bed and walking over to the wall. He pressed his ear against it, trying desperately to hear what you were saying.

“You never stand up for me!” You yelled. He heard scuffling and then a groan.

“Yes I do!” Another voice said. It was a woman’s, one Dean had never heard before.

“Then why didn’t you tonight? You heard what he said to me, Daisy.” Dean raised an eyebrow. Who said what to you?

“Yeah but you’ve got to admit, Y/N. He’s right,” Daisy said.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You seethed. That was cold. Dean immediately hated this Daisy and he didn’t even know her. “Get out.”

“What?” Daisy asked.

“I said get out. I don’t care where you go or what you do. Just get out,” You said.

“Fine,” Daisy said. The sound of the door opening and closing confirmed that you were alone. Dean listened as the creak of the old motel bed indicated you had laid upon it. The soft sound of your cries made his heart drop. Some bastard had hurt you. And your friend had taken his side.

Dean wanted so badly to go over there and comfort you. To shower you with affection and loving words. But he couldn’t. He’d be gone in two weeks and that’d be cruel.

So when Sam returned from the diner with the impala and boxes containing burgers, Dean told him to pack up and they left. They drove for hours until they reached another motel. Dean’s heart was so full of guilt, he drank until he passed out at the bar and had to have Sam pick him up and carry him out.

Five hours until Dean was due to pay the price for his deal. The hallucinations had started and he grew more anxious with each passing moment. They had Ruby’s knife and Lilith’s whereabouts, but he was still skeptical.

It was when he killed the demon possessing the cop that he knew they were headed toward one hell of a fight. If he already had demons on his tail, what would they be heading into?

When they found that Lilith was no longer in the fair haired little girl, Dean knew he was out of luck. Sam was frantic, begging with Ruby for any way to help him.

“I’m not going to let you go to hell, Dean!” Sam cried when Dean had pulled him away from the demon. His eyes were already filling with tears as he saw the serious expression on his older brother’s face.

“Yes you are,” Dean said.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asked. He felt defeated. He couldn’t imagine life without Dean.

“Keep fighting,” Dean said. “Take care of my wheels.”

The clock chimed, indicating it was midnight. Both of the brothers turned to it in fear, knowing Dean would be dragged to hell at any given moment.

“Sorry, Dean,” Ruby said. Dean looked over at the demon with a questioning expression. The two never had gotten along, but she seemed sincere. “I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

The sudden howling and growls of hell’s own bounty hunter filled Dean’s ears. His eyes snapped over to the vicious hound, Ruby also spotting it. The three dashed into the nearest room with the hellhound hot on their tails. Dean covered the doors and windows with the dust.

It was when Ruby asked for the knife that Dean realized she wasn’t… Ruby.

“Where’s Ruby?” Sam asked. The brothers struggled against Lilith’s hold.

“I sent her away,” She had said. She had sauntered over to Sam, Dean watching and desperately trying to break free.

“So this is your big plan? Drag me to hell, kill Sam and become queen bitch?” Dean said.

“I don’t have to answer to puppy chow,” Lilith replied. She smirked and opened the door, the dust moving out of the way. “Sick him, boy.”

Dean watched in horror as the hellhound sprinted into the room. He screamed as its claws dug into his flesh. Sam yelled for Lilith to stop, crying for his brother who was being ripped to shreds. With each bite and tear of Dean’s flesh the hound made, Dean found it harder and harder to fight.

When Lilith smoked out of the blonde, Sam immediately went over to his brother. His leaf green eyes were wide and staring, not focused on anything just… there. Sam sobbed and held his brother close to him, saying his name over and over, wishing it were all a nightmare. But no, it was all very real. Dean was in hell, and Sam couldn’t help but feel responsible.

So Sam held his brother, who’s bloody and torn skin was already beginning to turn cool to the touch. He cried and screamed profanities into the air, angry at the world for taking his brother. His brother was dead. And he never felt so alone.

Dear Diary,

He’s dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Diary,

You’re going to lose people in your life. It’s inevitable. And when you do, you’ll realize just how much you took their presence for granted. Nothing hurts worse than realizing you’ll never see someone you love again. I’ve been keeping myself busy, drowning myself in hunts and research for various things, trying to temporarily push reality out of my mind. But it seems that every time I’m back to doing nothing, my mind wanders back to him, and it feels like my throat constricts and I find it hard to breathe. They say time heals all wounds, but do they truly know what it’s like to lose the only person you’d ever truly loved? Because that’s a wound that never will heal completely, not with all the time in the world.*

You set down the pen and raked a hand through your hair. Dean’s been dead for about four months, and the hole in your heart refuses to fill. When Bobby told you, it felt like your entire world screeched to a stop. When you found out where he was, you broke down. You couldn’t imagine him in such a terrible place. Your dreams had turned to nightmares, ones of Dean in hell. No matter how hard you tried, the night terrors were unavoidable. Unless doused with alcohol.

You found yourself basking in the memory of that goodbye kiss between the two of you. Now that he’s dead, you knew what he meant about needing to get away from you, not wanting to hurt you. But it hurts all the same.

Your life now consisted of hunts and worried calls from Bobby. You lost two out of the three people you loved most in the world in short amount of time. You still weren’t healed from Carter’s death and then Dean bit the dust. The amount of pain you felt was eating away at you. The guilt of Carter’s death still hung over you like an eternal storm cloud, it was something you couldn’t shake.

Alcohol had turned out to be your best friend. It was easier to cope when a bottle of whisky or two was by your side. It wasn’t the best coping method, but with that and the growing amount of dead monsters you were leaving behind, your pain was beginning to numb.

You were currently lounging on a creaky bed in a dingy motel room in Aberdeen, South Dakota. It had been an easy salt and burn case that you had taken care of earlier in the day. You had already lined up another case, a possible vampire nest. It seemed small, maybe five to eight vamps. You knew Bobby would tear you a new one if he knew you were taking on a nest on your own, no matter how small. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You tossed your diary onto the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of whisky from the dust covered wood. You took a swig from the amber liquid and flipped through the channels on the tiny television, settling on a local news station. It was around midnight and you knew you’d have to get up early to get a head start on driving to the small town in Nebraska. But you weren’t tired and you hadn’t drank enough to keep the nightmares away.

When sleep finally did wash over you, you’d already finished the bottle and it was close to one thirty in the morning. Your body was tired, physically and emotionally. And with help from the booze, your slumber was dreamless and uninterrupted, and you could finally relax.

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel of your black 1989 Chevy Silverado, humming along to a Metallica song that came onto the radio. The day was cloudy and dim, the sun hidden behind a thick blanket of grey. You were itching to get this hunt over with, hoping that you could gank these sons of bitches before they killed or turned anyone else.

You weren’t sure where the nest was located exactly, but you had a few ideas. There were a few abandoned properties and warehouses on the outskirts of town that you decided to look into.

After checking into yet another shitty motel room, You began to suit up for the hunt. You strapped a thigh holster onto your left leg. It held almost a dozen syringes of dead man’s blood and a gun loaded with bullets soaked in dead man’s blood. Your machete was sheathed in your belt around your waist and you secured an extra knife inside your jacket pocket. After double checking your weapons, you decided to get going.

The first building was a bust. It was an old farmhouse hidden in a wasted corn field. The only thing remotely supernatural were the two teenagers holed up in one of the rooms. You’d never be able to remove that image from your mind.

The second building was empty as well. Luckily, there weren’t any horny teenagers in this one, just empty beer bottles and empty cigarette packs.

When you arrived to the third building, you automatically knew it was the right place. A few cars were lined up outside of the old, rundown church (I’m not even going to mention the irony in that) and a few candles were flickering in the shattered windows.

You stepped out of your truck, unsheathed your machete and silently made your way to the building. You crouched down low and underneath the window. You could hear the low hum of voices coming from inside. Taking a deep breath, you slipped out from under the window and around the church. You spotted a side door and decided that would be your best bet to get inside. Before you could reach it however, a body tackled you from behind.

You landed on your stomach, the air knocked out of you. You struggled underneath the weight on top of you, able to finally bring your elbow up to the vamp’s face. He grunted and you shoved him of you, swiping your blade through the air and taking his head off in one swift motion.

You scrambled back to your feet and slipped inside, the smell hitting you in the face like a ton of bricks. The metallic scent of blood burned your nose and you had to suppress the urge to gag when you saw a severed hand a few feet away from you. You shook out your limbs and ventured forward, bringing your machete at the ready.

You moved through the building with ease. This obviously was a newer nest, the vampires inexperienced fighters. There were a bit more than you’d thought, maybe closer to thirteen. But it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

They weren’t all in one room which made it easier. You moved swiftly from room to room, ganking each of the bloodsucking freaks as you came across them. It was when you came to the last room that you had your work cut out for you.

This guy was obviously the leader. His fighting skills were much more evolved than the rest. He was able to get the upper hand on you at one point, having stabbed your right leg with a broken metal pipe. Blood seeped from the wound and the pain flared through your entire right side, but you were able to catch him off guard by stabbing a needle into his neck, filling him with dead man’s blood. Once he was weak, you slashed your blade through his neck.

“Fuck,” You hissed as you pulled the pipe out of your leg. You tore off the hem of your shirt and wrapped it around the top of your thigh, tying it as tight as you could, creating a makeshift tourniquet. You bit your lip from crying out as you took a step. It was going to be a treat getting back to your car.

You limped slowly to your truck, hoping to God you wouldn’t pass out before you got there. Sliding in behind the wheel, you let out a breath of relief. You groaned when you realized you’d have to use your right leg to drive.

You collapsed onto your bed, exhaustion washing over you like a damn tsunami. You knew you had to take care of the wound on your leg but you were so tired, which was most likely from the blood loss. 

You sighed and sat up, deciding to just get it over with. You shimmied out of your jeans, wincing when the fabric rubbed against the open wound. After your tourniquet was released, the blood began to flow faster and you knew you had to get this sewed up as fast as possible.

Biting onto your belt to keep from screaming, you poured rubbing alcohol over the gash. You squeezed your eyes shut at the intense pain but kept going. You gently cleaned the blood from your skin and cleaned the wound thoroughly. You winced when the needle pierced your skin and you reached over for your bottle of whisky. You took a large sip from it, welcoming the burning feeling at the back of your throat as the liquid ran down and warmed your insides. You continued your task, the needle going in and out of your skin much slower than you liked. But it hurt like a bitch and you weren’t sure you could go any faster.

You were light headed when you finished, the amount of blood lost taking its toll in you. You wrapped up your thigh and took another drink. Finally, you were finished.

You groaned when there was a knock on your door. Who the hell would that be? Not bothering to put on pants, you stood from your position on the bed, grabbing the headboard to steady yourself. Black spots dotted your vision and your head became fuzzy.

You slowly made your way to the door, taking caution at your limited strength. You unlocked the door and creaked it open, peeking your head around to keep your lower half of your body out of sight. You leaned your sweaty temple against the door and raised an eyebrow at your visitors.

“How the hell did you find me?” You croaked. You were having trouble standing and your head pounded like a mother fucker.

“It wasn’t easy,” Sam replied. Bobby looked at you with a bewildered expression.

“The hell happened to you?” He asked. You smirked and shrugged

“Life,” You said. “Why are you here?”

“Look, don’t freak out, okay?” Sam said. You squint your eyes at him in confusion.

“‘Fuck you talking about?” You asked. Before he could answer, someone moved out from the shadows in front of Bobby and Sam. You felt the air leave your lungs as your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. You took in the sandy brown hair, the long bowlegs and the soft smile on his plump, pink lips. When your Y/E/C eyes finally met his leaf green ones, you felt your heart stop.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean breathed. Your breath caught in your throat at the sound of his husky voice. But before you could say anything, your vision spotted once more. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing you felt when you began to rouse was the burning sensation in your leg. The fire was slowly increasing, the heat flaring up to your hip and down to your toes. It felt as though your entire body was filled with led, your limbs a dead weight against the thin motel mattress. Your head swam with fuzziness and you desperately tried to remember what happened but it was like looking through murky water.

But then you heard voices.

It was just a buzz, your ears just beginning to wake up. You could faintly hear the scuffling of shoes across carpet and the rumble of voices in the room.

The hunt. You finished the hunt and hurt your leg, that’s where the burning came from.

“It’s been awhile,” A husky voice said. “When is she going to wake up?”

“Give her time,” Another, deeper voice replied. “She was hurt and obviously lost a lot of blood. You showing up here didn’t do her a whole lot of good.”

You struggled to open your eyes but they wouldn’t budge, as if the were sealed shut. The fog in your brain began to clear, giving you more of your senses. The smell of alcohol and the very faint metallic scent of blood was in the air, the musty smell of mildew mixed with the two other smells creating almost an uncomfortable burn in your nose.

“Toss me another beer, would ‘ya, Sammy?” The husky voice said.

Sam and Bobby came to your motel last night. Your mind was becoming clearer by the minute and you began to remember what happened. They showed up, Sam said don’t freak out and then… What? What happened next?

Dean came from around the wall.

Dean!

You sat bolt upright, your eyes flying open. The sudden movement caused your leg to flare up in another painful rush of fire. Your eyes frantically searched the room, landing on the person you thought was dead.

You swung your legs over the bed and stood up, your head swirling and you grabbed the headboard for support.

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, sweetheart,” Dean said holding his hands out defensively.

“Calm… Calm down?” You sputtered. “You just… show up here out of nowhere… all of you… and expect me to believe you were somehow resurrected? You just spring it on me… out nowhere, no phone call, no warning just, BAM!-” You clapped your hands, causing the men in the room to jump- “He’s alive! Just like that! Do you know how fucking crazy this is?”

“Look, I know this is weird,” Sam said. “Trust me, I tried to kill him when I first saw him. But it’s really him, Y/N. We don’t know how, but it is.”

“Yeah, no, this has surpassed ‘weird’,” You protested. “This is goddam insane!”

“I know,” Dean said. You blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze around the edges of your vision. Your head spun and you knew you needed to sit down if you didn’t want to collapse again. “I’m sorry we popped up out of nowhere but I needed to see you, Y/N/N.”

A pained sound came from the back of your throat. Dean rushed you, engulfing you in his arms. You clung to him, burying your head in his chest and gripping his shirt tight in your hands. You inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to fill you once again. The sound of his heartbeat was music to your ears. He was back. He was alive.

“I missed you,” You whispered. He kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek against your hair.

“You have no idea,” He said.

“What have you been up to?” Bobby asked. You were propped up against the headboard, Dean by your side, your hands nearly touching, and a pillow under your thigh.

“Not much,” You answered taking a sip of whisky. “Hunting.”

“Seems like you’ve been doing a little more than hunting,” Sam observed. He held up the trash can by the table, tilting it so you could see its contents. Three empty whisky bottles and about a half a dozen beer cans were tossed out. You cringed at the sight.

“Some of those were from the floor of my truck,” You defended. “I haven’t been here long enough to drink that much.”

“That doesn’t make us feel any better,” Sam said. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You should think about cutting back.”

“You’re not my father,” You retorted.

“No but I am,” Bobby grumbled. “You aren’t going to drink yourself to death.”

“You’re one to talk,” You muttered.

“You watch yourself, girl,” Bobby growled. You didn’t answer. You just sighed and drank again from your bottle, causing Bobby to grumble something under his breath.

The air in the room had quickly became tense. Bobby seemed pissed, which he had a right to be. You didn’t exactly have a right to give your father attitude like that, especially when it came to his drinking. But you began to feel uncomfortable with the amount of testosterone in the room.

You slowly got up from the bed, being careful of your leg, and made your way to the door. You still were a bit dizzy, the world shaking slightly with each step you took, so you went slowly, taking your time so you didn’t pass out.

“Where are you going?” Bobby asked. He stood up and followed you.

“I need some air,” You said.

“You really shouldn’t be walking around on that leg,” Sam said. He stood up as well, ready to lead you back to the bed. “You need to rest it so you don’t rip open your stitches. You can’t afford to lose anymore blood.”

“Well I’m not sitting in here with you lot judging me,” You hissed. The alcohol you had consumed had already began to fuzz up your already fuzzy brain.

“You aren’t going with this.” Bobby reached for the bottle. You pulled it away from his reach and put your hand against his chest.

“No, no, no,” You said. “I don’t think so.” You turned back toward the door and opened it. “Don’t follow me.”

The motel was currently just a small shape in the distance behind you. The only light around was from the moon, the giant orb in the dark sky giving off its own glow to light your path. The sweet September air brushed against your skin with each light gust of wind. The streets were dead, the only life around seemingly being the animals in the woods surrounding you.

You took another drink from your whisky. The bottle was running low. You furrowed your brows. You didn’t remember drinking that much.

‘Maybe they were right,’ you thought to yourself. After Carter’s death, you had began drinking a lot more than you used to. And then the time following Dean’s death, that amount raised. Your biological father had been an alcoholic, his father before him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall down that path, but it seemed you were doing it unconsciously.

You looked down at the amber bottle, which was now three-quarters of the way empty, and made your decision. You turned and chucked the bottle into the woods. It landed in the brush with a soft thud and a shatter.

“Well done, sweetheart,” A voice said behind you. You whipped around, relaxing when you saw Dean standing there with a soft smile on his face.

“I didn’t think it was the best idea to continue down the path I was going down,” You said. “I don’t want to turn into my father.”

He walked closer to you until he was only about six inches from you. You looked up into his jade eyes, feeling your heart flutter at the sight. He was really back. The fact alone made you weak in the knees.

“I’m sorry,” He said. You tilted your head in confusion.

“For what?” You asked.

“Not telling you,” He admitted. “For leaving. I hurt you and I’m so sorry.” You shook your head and moved closer to him, taking his hands in yours.

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” You said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You cupped the side of his face and brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Sure, you hurt me, but I now know why you did it. You’re still a damn moron”- He chuckled at that and you joined him- “But I understand.”

“I missed you,” He whispered. “So much, it hurt. I hated having to leave you.”

“Just promise you won’t do it again and we’ll be okay,” You said quietly. His eyes opened and looked down into your Y/E/C ones. He raised his hand and ran his fingertips along your cheek. His eyes roamed your face before he bent down and pressed his lips softly to yours.

Unlike your first kiss, where it was one saying goodbye, this one was full of promise for the future. His hand moved to cup your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft, caressing your own with loving vigor. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue before asking for entrance, which you granted with a low moan.

The feel of him under your fingertips was exhilarating. You never thought you’d be able to do this again, to see him, to feel him, to taste him. Your hands roamed to his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, earning you a moan of his own. His hands moved to grip your waist and pull you flush against him. Your lips and tongues danced together in perfect sync, your skin hot and flushed under his touch. Your body was tingling with ecstacy, your senses overwhelmed with everything Dean.

The two of you pulled away breathlessly. He rested his forehead to yours, his hands not leaving the sides of your face.

Gathering up your courage, you uttered three words you never thought you’d be able to tell him

“I love you.”

He smiled brightly and pressed another kiss to your lips. “I know.”

You giggled and slapped his chest playfully. “You Han Solo-ed me, you ass.”

“Damn right I did,” He said. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and the two of you began to walk back to the motel.

The smile never left your face as you walked. He was back, and not only that, but you shared another ‘moment’. You couldn’t help but think things were going to move forward from there. You were jittery with eagerness, wondering just what was going to happen. But whatever it was, the two of you would be together, and you were perfectly content with that.


	6. Chapter 6

“You okay?” Sam asked. You scratched your head and furrowed your brows.

“Yep,” You answered. “Just… Trying to wrap my head around it.” Dean chuckled and patted your knee.

“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in.”

“He wears a trenchcoat?” You asked. Dean laughed loudly beside you.

“A trenchcoat,” Bobby confirmed.

“An angel?”

“An angel.”

“This is insane! But… also kinda cool. I mean, angels,” You gushed. “You’ve got to admit, it’s awesome.”

“That’s what I said,” Sam muttered. Dean made a noise deep in his chest.

“They’re kinda dicks,” He said. You slumped your shoulders.

“Oh.” You thought for a moment before adding, “Can you see their wings?”

Bobby chuckled. “No,” He replied. “You could see the shadow of them though, for a brief moment.”

“Awesome,” You said.

Dean clapped his hands together and stood up. He held his hand out to you, which you took and he brought you to your feet. “Now that you’re caught up, I say we get a drink.”

“That’s an excellent plan.”

When you and Dean had returned to the room, they had hounded you with questions; what had you been doing these past four months, why haven’t you returned Bobby’s calls, what were you thinking taking on a vamp nest solo. The answers were fairly simple; hunting, avoidance and “Why not?”

Then they moved onto the subject of how Dean was brought back and who brought him back. It took them almost a good ninety minutes to thoroughly explain everything that happened after he was resurrected.

Your mind was still trying to process everything. What they had told you was absolutely insane. Angels were real.

“What’s running through that pretty little head of yours?” Dean asked. You smiled up at him and squeezed his hand.

“Everything,” You said. “I can’t believe you’re back.”

“Me either, sweetheart,” Dean sighed. He kissed your temple before moving to the driver’s side of the Impala. You slipped into the passenger seat and buckled your seat belt. As soon as the engine was up and running, Dean intertwined your fingers with his, giving your hand a loving squeeze.

Throughout the night, Dean would always be touching you. Whether it was interlocking your fingers together or tracing circles on the back of your hand. His eyes never seemed to leave your face. He never thought he’d ever be here, with you. He never thought he’d ever be able to talk to you or even be in the same room with you ever again after saying goodbye and going to hell.

Your smile made his heart flutter in his chest. He never had felt this way about anyone before. It killed him when he saw the state you were in when he showed up; half dead and bottles of alcohol surrounding you. He knew it must have been tough, with his death following so close behind Carter’s. You never had an easy life and every bad thing that could have happen began to pile up on your shoulders. He understood, better than anyone, what it was like to feel as though the only way to cope was at the bottom at a bottle and killing the things in the dark. When he saw you, you looked so broken. But you seemed to lighten in the span of five hours, your smile and eyes lighting up the room.

He couldn’t have been happier at that moment. Gazing at and laughing with the woman he loved.

The woman he loved. It was strange to Dean, to truly be in love with someone. He had realized it before he went to hell, when he saw you that day on the street. And when you told him you loved him, he couldn’t have felt more ecstatic.

It wasn’t exactly the reunion he wanted, but now, sitting in a little dump bar, having a beer and just talking with you, his heart couldn’t have been fuller. It felt as though a hole that had always been in his heart filled, and he had you to thank for that.

“Well,” You began. You looked down at your fingers that were fiddling with the paper on your beer bottle. Dean’s eyes were fixated on you, desperately trying to read your expression. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“How is it embarrassing?” He chuckled. You gave him a slight smile and shrugged.

“I guess I’ve always had a crush on you but I realized I was in love with you about two years ago.” You murmured.

“You never acted on it?” He asked tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Instead of pulling his hand away, he rested it against your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way,” You said. He leaned forward and gave you a peck on the lips.

“I did feel the same way,” He whispered against your lips. You smiled and pressed your lips against his once more. A throat cleared behind you, causing the two of you to pull away.

“Um… Excuse me,” A pretty blond said. You raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “Can you not make out at a public bar. Not everyone wants to see… That.” She gestured her hand towards you two and you scoffed.

“Then don’t look,” Dean bit back, kissing your temple. The blond rolled her eyes and sauntered over to her friends at the other side of the bar.

“I’m gonna hit the ladies’ room and then do you wanna get out of here?” You asked. Dean grinned.

“Sure,” He answered. You kissed his cheek and slid off the stool. You made your way through the bar and to the restroom.

When you finished your business, you were about to leave the stall when the door opened and heels clacked against the tiles.

“I mean, did you see that guy?” One of the girls asked. The sounds of purses being set on the sink sounded through the small restroom and you could hear the women rummaging through them.

“Yeah, he’s totally hot,” Another answered. “You think I have a chance?”

“No.” You recognized that voice as the blonde bitch from earlier. “He was with some chick.”

“Oh yeah, I saw her,” Girl number one said. “But I mean, flash him a little boob and flirt your ass off, he’ll totally go home with you.”

“How do you know? He seemed pretty close to her. And she’s pretty,” Girl number two said.

“Did you even see her? He’d totally rather have you. I mean, you’re skinny and blonde. You’re a fucking model, how can she compete with you?” Girl number one giggled.

“What does he even see in her? He can do so much better than Ms. Piggy,” Blonde bitch said.

Tears began to well up in your eyes. Their words stung, echoing in your head over and over. You no longer believed Dean was toying with you, that feeling left a long time ago. He had confessed his feelings to you and you knew he wouldn’t give those bitches a second glance. But their words still hurt, knowing people thought you weren’t the kind of person who “should” be with him.

The girls left, laughter bouncing off the restroom walls. You wiped your eyes and unlocked the stall door, stepping into the room and looking up at the mirror as you washed your hands. You splashed water on your face to try and hide the fact you were crying. You then patted your face dry and left the bathroom, putting on a happy face.

“You ready to go?” You asked as you came up to the bar. You glanced over at the girls and they were staring at you, their faces horror stricken when they realized where you came from.

“Sure.” Dean smiled. He grasped your hand and slid off the stool. You looked away from the girls and Dean wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you out of the bar.

As you walked out into the night, the door opened again behind you and one of the girls came out.

“Hey,” She said. You recognized her voice as girl number two. She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear awkwardly and gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, about what we said in the restroom.”

Dean gave you a questioning look but you ignored it, giving the girl a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” She said shaking her head. “We shouldn’t have said those things.”

“It wasn’t really you,” You said.

“But I didn’t stand up for you. I’m really sorry,” She admitted.

“Thank you,” You murmured. She gave you a nod and then looked at Dean before scurrying back inside. When she was gone, Dean turned to you and raised a brow.

“What did they say to you?” He demanded. You looked up at him.

“They didn’t say anything to me, I overheard them,” You said.

“Okay, what did you hear?”

“They were just saying that you’d rather be with someone like them,” You said.

“Like what? Complete bitches?” He snarled.

“No, like, skinny, blonde and gorgeous,” You mumbled. Dean made a noise deep in his chest, a deep rumbling, almost like a growl.

“Those bitches!” He fumed. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“Dean-” You began but he cut you off.

“No, listen to me when I say this. You are gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, good, kind, funny and incredibly smart. I don’t want anyone but you. I love you so fucking much that it scares me. Please, don’t ever doubt that,” He proclaimed. You grinned and grabbed his hand.

“You love me?” You whispered.

“I thought you would’ve figured that out by now,” He breathed. You stood on your tip toes and pressed your lips softly to his.

“I love you too, Dean Winchester,” You said. He kissed your forehead and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

He opened your car door and let you slip in, closing it softly behind you. The smile refused to leave your face. You buckled your seat belt and sighed in content. You were so incredibly happy.

You felt good for the first time in months. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to feel this elated again. Your heart was fluttering and you were almost jittery. You had the man you loved by your side and you were back in relations with your best friend and your father. Your life was finally looking up.

Until you noticed the slip of light yellow paper on the dashboard. You reached forward and grabbed it just as Dean got behind the steering wheel. You looked down at the words scribbled across it and felt your stomach drop.

“What is it?” Dean asked, noticing your paling face. You held up the paper with fearful eyes, allowing Dean to read the words that were currently running through your mind on a loop. Four words that had your heart racing and fear coursing through your veins.

I’ve found you, Y/N/N.


	7. Chapter 7

“What is it?” Dean asked, noticing your paling face. You held up the paper with fearful eyes, allowing Dean to read the words that were currently running through your mind on a loop. Four words that had your heart racing and fear coursing through your veins.

I’ve found you, Y/N/N.

Chills ran up and down your spine at the four letters scrawled on the little paper. Dean clenched his jaw, his eyes going dark. He shoved the note into his pocket and peeled out of the parking lot, speeding down the road back to the motel.

You had a pretty good idea as to who it was. You had stayed hidden from him for a long time. A few sigil tattoos and hex bags left you golden. But it seemed he had broken through some. Even the tiniest crack can allow him to see through and find you.

You’d give anything to run him through with the demon blade. The taste of revenge had been on the tip of your tongue multiple times, before you found out it took more than the demon blade to kill him.

Aamon was an incredibly strong and dangerous demon. He had killed your family… looking for you. The reason for that was yet to be determined, but his mind was set on spilling your blood. He had killed your mother, father and siblings and then killed Carter, trying his damndest to get to you.

You had hidden yourself away from him, knowing that if he found you, you’d be dead within a few days. You had no clue how to kill him and you knew that if you came face to face with him, you were done for.

Dean threw the car into park and shot out of the car. He came around to your side and grabbed your hand, wrapping an arm around you protectively. His eyes darted around the lot as he rushed you to the room, his other hand on his blade.

He banged on the door a few times and Sam opened it.

“Hey, what’s-” Sam began but was quickly cut off by his brother.

“Salt the doors and windows,” He demanded. Sam was about to open his mouth to question it but Dean held up a hand. “Now!”

Sam grabbed the salt from his bag and began doing what Dean asked of him. You sat down on the bed and held your head in your hands. How did he find you? Your tattoos were all in tact and you had a tiny hex bag necklace for christ’s sake.

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asked. Sam set down the salt when he was done and sat beside you, placing a hand on your bouncing knee.

“This happened,” Dean growled taking the note out of his pocket and handing it to him. Bobby read it, his face changing from confused to furious.

“Aamon,” He said turning to you. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Who else would it be?” You murmured. Bobby took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. He began to pace back and forth in front of you, putting his hat back on his head and crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry, who?” Dean asked.

“How’d he find you?” Bobby pondered, ignoring Dean’s question.

“I don’t know. My tattoos are all fine and I still wear my hex bag,” You said.

“We need to leave,” Bobby said. “Pack your bags. We leave back to my house in ten.”

“Can someone please explain to me who Aamon is?” Dean announced.

“He’s a demon,” Bobby answered. “An incredibly powerful demon. Your demon blade merely slowed him down when we stabbed him with it six months ago.” Dean’s expression was horror stricken. Sam’s hand tightened on your knee and you leaned into him for support, missing the look Dean gave the two of you. “He killed Y/N’s family.”

“And Carter,” You added. Bobby nodded.

“He’s practically been after her since she was born,” Bobby said. “We’ve kept her hidden but it seems as though he’s found her.”

“So, what are we gonna do?” Sam asked.

“Find a way to kill the son of a bitch,” Dean said. “We’re not going to let him kill her.”

“But how?” You asked. “We’ve looked for ways to kill him. He’s a demon, shouldn’t the blade have worked?”

“If he was a demon.” Sam stood up from his spot on the bed.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked.

“What if he’s not just a demon? What if he’s something else as well?” Sam said. “Think about it. He’s a demon, we know that for sure, right?-” He looked at you for confirmation and you nodded- “But what if he’s also something else? Like… A hybrid or something.”

“A hybrid demon?” Dean scoffed. “There’s no such thing.”

“But what if there was? The blade should have worked. It’s a demon killing knife, Dean. But if he’s mixed with something else, that could be the reason the blade didn’t work.”

“Maybe Sam is right,” You said.

“But that makes no sense,” Dean argued. “Since when are demons hybrids of other monsters?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “It’s just a theory.”

“Okay, so say he is a hybrid… demon… what is he mixed with?” Dean asked.

“That’s the million dollar question,” Bobby grumbled.

“This is such a bad idea,” You said. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to settle the anxiety currently running through you. Dean stood in front of you and cupped your face in his hands.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” He said. “I promise.”

“But what if he breaks through?” You said. “If he’s a hybrid, will a demon trap even work?”

“I damn well hope so,” Bobby said walking into the room. He set the bowl in the center of the trap and pulled out a small box of matches from his pocket. “Are we ready?”

Dean turned and pulled you behind him, keeping his blade (which you told him was completely worthless numerous times) in front of him. You gave Sam a look and he nodded at you, giving you a small smile. Bobby dropped the match into the bowl, a large flame flaring up along with a large puff of red smoke.

A maniacal laugh echoed through the room. A shiver went down your spine and you hid your face in Dean’s back. He reached back and grasped your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Well, well, well,” A voice said. A sudden rush of anger surged through you and you stepped out to stand beside Dean. You took in a shaky breath as you saw the thing who killed your family standing in the center of Bobby’s library. He gave you a sickening smile, his white teeth gleaming in the low light of the room.

He had the same meatsuit, even after all these years. His wavy black hair cascaded down his back. A pair of piercing, crystal blue eyes glared at you with a raging fire that shook you to the core.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N/N,” He said in a sing song voice. He chuckled and walked to the edge of the trap. He looked down and frowned. “Now, I’m your guest. You shouldn’t treat me so rudely.”

“You’re no guest,” You seethed.

“Aren’t I?” He said. He clicked his tongue and shook his finger at you. “Because, you invited me here, didn’t you?”

“What are you?” Dean asked calmly. Aamon’s eyes flicked over to the green eyed hunter, his lips curling into a small smile.

“Dean Winchester,” Aamon said. “How nice to see you here. Alive.”

“Answer the question, prick,” Dean growled.

“Oh, he’s a feisty one,” Aamon said. He crossed his arms and tapped his chin. “You know, I like you.”

“Oh shut it,” Sam said. “What are you?”

“I’m a demon,” Aamon said simply. “Thought you knew that.”

“What else are you?” Sam asked. Aamon smiled at him.

“Smart boy,” He commented. “But, I’m afraid that’s a secret for another time. But, I’ll make you a deal. Give me Y/N and I’ll tell you.”

“No,” Dean said.

“Oh, and why not?” Aamon pouted.

“You’re not going to kill her.”

“Oh, aren’t I?” Aamon said. He laughed and shook his head. “Humans are so naive-” His face turned serious, his eyes flicking to a black and fiery orange color. Your eyes widened at the sight, as did everyone else’s in the room. He turned to look you straight in the eyes. “You’ll never… Defeat me. I’m going to rip Sammy boy and daddy’s heart out first, making you and lover boy watch. And then I’m going to hurt you, nice and slow, in front of him-” He pointed at Dean-” And then finally, I’ll kill him, letting you watch the man you love die right in front of you before you die yourself.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Dean snarled. “We’ll find a way to kill you.” Aamon looked at Dean, his eyes turning back to blue.

“Ah, yes. You try as hard as you might.” He looked back at you, another smile hinting at his lips. “But watch your back, love. Because I’ve been waiting to taste your blood since you were a minute old.” He winked and gave you another smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the devil’s trap.


	8. Chapter 8

The four of you stared at the trap speechless.

“How did he do that?” You asked. Sam looked at you with wide eyes, giving you a shrug.

“I have no idea,” He said. “It may be his hybrid side.”

“Yeah but still,” You said. “He’s part demon. Shouldn’t he be stuck?”

“Theoretically,” Dean grumbled.

“Why didn’t he just walk across the line? Kill her now?” Sam pondered.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged.

“Well, that’s great,” You said bitterly. You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a sigh.

“Now what are we going to do?” Bobby asked. “The bastard doesn’t get trapped inside devil’s traps, the blade doesn’t work on him, we have no idea what the hell else he is. We’re just a bunch of idjits with our thumbs up our asses.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Dean said. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. The whole situation was completely fucked up. You had no idea what Aamon was or how to kill him and quite frankly, your life span wasn’t looking too good.

Dean seemed to have hope, something you lacked. Aamon was old and strong. He was able to break through wardings that could keep the strongest demon away. And somehow, after twenty-one years, he broke through, and there was nothing stopping him from ripping your heart from your chest.

One thing that sat you with sourly was when he said he’d kill your father and the brothers. He never had shown interest in them in the past, he would have come after them sooner, right? But why now is he showing interest?

He knows you’d do anything to protect the people you love. He doesn’t truly care about them, they’re just leverage to him. There’s no reason to kill them or keep them alive, not in his eyes at least. Your biological parents were in the way, your siblings were in the way, Carter was in the way. They were all in the way of you.

But if the boys weren’t in the way, they’d be fine. Aamon wouldn’t have the need to kill them.   
He knew you’d protect them, not letting him kill the people you love. He knew you’d give yourself to him before that ever happened. That’s why he threatened them.

A switch clicked in your brain, the reason he didn’t walk across the edge of the trap, the reason he didn’t just kill you right there, dawned on you. He wanted you to give up, to surrender. He wanted you to know he’s in power and to give in to him. He wanted to show you he was in control and how easy it was to make you break. To make you his.

You let out a breath and walked over to Bobby’s desk, reaching underneath it and grabbing the bottle that sat under the faded wood. You sat down and put your feet up on the desk, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink, feeling the amber liquid burn your throat deliciously.

The three men gave you a disappointed look and you just stared back, taking another drink. You didn’t give two fucks about what they thought of you. You needed something to take the edge off.

“Y/N, we’ll figure this out,” Dean said again. You shrugged and took another drink.

“Yeah, sure.” You said bitterly. You sighed and looked out the window, the cloudy sky matching your mood.

“We aren’t going to let him get to you, Birdy,” Bobby said. “We’ll find out how to kill him.”

“I’m not going to let him get to you,” You said standing up. “You heard what he said. If any of you get in the way of me, you’re dead. And I’m sure as hell not going to let that happen.”

“So, what, you’re just going to roll over and give up?” Dean asked.

“Hell no. But if it comes down to it, I’m not letting you die for me,” You stressed. “You guys are too important to me-” Your eyes locked with Dean’s. They were pained and unnerved, matching yours- “I wouldn’t be able to handle another person I love dying. I mean, when Dean died, that practically killed me.”

“But how do you think we’ll be if you die? You think I can live without you, Y/N?” Dean whispered. He walked closer to you, taking the bottle from your hands and replacing it with his own. You grasped them tightly, and looked between his emerald orbs.

“You have Sam and Bobby,” You murmured. “Besides, I’ll be easily replaced.”

“Bullshit,” He said. You laid your head on his chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around you.

“You’re not dying. That’s not happening,” Bobby grumbled. “We’ll kill the bastard. But for now, I think we need to take precautions.”

“Like what?” You asked. You glanced up at Dean, who shrugged.

***

“Seriously?” You sighed. You glanced around the panic room and slumped your shoulders.

“Seriously,” Bobby said. “This’ll keep anything out. You’re safe in here.”

“So what, I’m a prisoner now?” You hissed. “This is crap. I should be helping you guys.”

“Not a prisoner.” Sam shook his head. “This is the only way to make sure he doesn’t find you. You’re completely safe in here.”

“I’m going to be alone in a freaking dungeon,” You grumbled. “I’m a prisoner.”

“You won’t be alone,” Dean said. Bobby and Sam began walking out of the room, Dean staying where he was, his eyes trained on you.

“What?”

“I’ll be here with you,” He said. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You stared up at him, your hands fisting themselves in his flannel.

“Why would you do that? You’re locked in here now,” You said.

“I love you,” He whispered. He bent down and pressed his lips against your forehead. “That’s why,” He murmured against your skin. “Besides, we’re alone. I bet no one can hear us down here.” He wiggled his brows, making you giggled.

He bent down lower, latching his lips onto your pulse point, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Dean…” You whined. He smiled against your skin and moved his hands to the round of your rear, a squeak sounding from your lips when he squeezed.

He chuckled and moved backwards, his lips finding yours once again as he fell back on the twin bed, bringing you down on top of him.

“Wait, no Dean,” You said rolling off of him. He furrowed his brows, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What is it?” He asked. His eyes widened a bit when a thought struck him. “Are you a virgin?”

“What? No, I…” You sighed, running a hand down your face. “I can’t be on top of you. I’m too heavy.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He asked, his thumb running across your cheekbone.

“I’m too heavy to be on top of you, Dean.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. He let out a long breath and shook his head.

“That’s not true, Y/N,” He muttered.

“Yes, it is,” You said.

“No, it’s not,” He said harshly. He lifted his head up, his face a mere two inches from yours. “How many times do I need to tell you?” He pressed his lips softly to your collarbone, moving up to the base of your throat. “You’re beautiful-” He moved his hand down from your waist to your thigh- “Absolutely beautiful.”

His hand moved inwards on your thigh, coming dangerously close to the ache between your legs. You ran your hands up his sides to cup his face, bringing his lips back to your own. Bringing his arm around your back, he rolled over on to his own, bringing you on top of him, your legs straddling his thighs.

You broke apart from him, his lips latching on to your jaw. “Dean-”

“No,” He murmured against your skin. His hands landed on your legs, squeezing them affectionately. “Let me show you how beautiful you are-” He pulled back to look you straight in the eye, his hand coming up to cup your cheek- “Let me show you how much I love you.”


	9. Chapter 9

Your fingers trace small circles on Dean’s chest, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder as his hand ran up and down your bare back.

The two of you had been in that position for a while. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was calming, reminding you that the both of you were alive and in that small moment, everything was truly alright. You wished you could freeze that moment. You wished the two of you could stay in that small fraction of time for eternity. Not having to worry about Aamon or angels or the threat of the apocalypse. Just the two of you, laying with each other with nothing but a blanket between you, basking in each other.

But you knew that it couldn’t be a reality. Those threats were still out there, looming over your head like a dark storm cloud. Even with all the distracting Dean had just done, you still had to face it when you came back to reality.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. Your eyes flitted up to his, a soft smile on your face.

“You.” He made a light sound, his fingers running up to thread through your hair. You kissed his bare chest and snuggled closer to him, the small blanket not quite fitting around the both of you, and you shivered at the cool air.

“You know, I never thought you liked me back,” He said. You scoffed and rolled onto your stomach, your arm coming up to rest on his chest and play with the amulet around his neck.

“I never thought you liked me back,” You said. “You were always with these… Picture perfect, model material girls. I never thought you’d want to go for someone like me. Someone not… Like that.”

“That’s idiotic, sweetheart.” He scowled. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You blushed and ducked your head down, burrowing into his chest. “I love you too.”

He sighed, his arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you closer to him. You moved your head to press your face into the side of his neck, your lips pressing soft kisses on the tender skin. Your hand moved to trail down his chest, your fingers stopping right above his pelvic bone, tracing patterns along the soft skin.

He chuckled and rolled the two of you over, his hips pressing down onto you and you moaned at the feel of him. “You want a round two?”

“If you think you can handle it,” You said, a smirk playing on your lips. He growled playfully and bent down to nip at your ear.

“Oh, I can handle it, sweetheart,” He whispered into your ear. He thrusted his hips forward, his hard member bumping your bundle of nerves, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. “It’s you that I’m worried about.”

image  
The next day rolled around and you were left alone. You knew the boys were doing it for your own good, but you had gotten bored easily and quite frankly, you were annoyed at them for locking you down here.

You huffed and fell back down on the bed, letting out a long breath. You were currently alone in the house, Sam and Dean having gone on a quick salt and burn a few towns over and Bobby tagging along just for the fun of being out in the field again. They weren’t really worried about you since you were inside the panic room, which was supposedly the safest part of the whole house. But it was quiet and eerie, a strange feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

A loud crash from upstairs made you jump. You leaped off the bed and stayed as still as possible, tilting your head a bit and listening as closely as possible.

Your stomach rolled as butterflies fluttered around inside. Your breathing began to pick up as a few more creaks sounded above you as if someone was walking.

And then you heard it.

Someone was whistling above you, a broken tune falling past their lips as they moved around upstairs. You swallowed thickly and folded your arms around your middle, your body trembling with fear. There was someone- or something- upstairs, and it wasn’t any of the boys.

A thick feeling of dread filled your chest as the possibility of who could be up there ran through your mind. You were alone, the perfect time to show up if he was going to.

As long as you stayed in that room, you’d be fine.

At least you thought so.

You heard the loud steps of someone walking down the stairs, a light echo bouncing of the walls. You backed up and moved around the bed in the center of the room, grabbing the knife Dean had left for you off the metal desk. A loud knock sounded from the door and you took a settling breath, moving your stance into a defensive one.

“Y/N,” He said in a sing-song voice. “I know you’re in there, love.” He knocked again, a little harder and louder and suddenly the peephole was swiped open, his orange glowing eyes staring into the room, his lips curling into a demonic smile. “Hello, beautiful.”

“It’s warded,” You said. “You can’t come in here.”

“Maybe not,” He said. He closed the peephole and it was silent on the other side. You furrowed your brows and listened closely, but nothing happened.

The door burst open suddenly, the metal flying off the hinges and knocking against the bed, falling to the ground with a loud clatter.

“But I can try.” He grinned. He stepped as close as he could to the threshold, his eyes scanning the room, his head nodding approvingly. “It’s very well put together, I’ve got to admit. The detail is spectacular.”

“Why do you want me?” You asked. “Why do you want me dead?” His eyes moved back to linger on you, the orange fading, leaving his crystal blue orbs. You shifted uncomfortably under his hard gaze and he smiled at you.

“It’s not that simple, love,” He said. “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you quite yet.” You took a deep breath and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What are you?”

“Now, that love, is what everyone is trying to figure out these days. I’m truly impressed you and those knuckleheads could figure it out,” He said. “All in good time, love. You’ll find out eventually.”

“Why are you even here?” You sneered. He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

“How certain are you that this room can keep me out?” He asked. You swallowed thickly, not answering him, not really knowing yourself. He smirked dangerously, clasping his hands behind his back before moving his foot slowly. Carefully, he stepped over the threshold, a wince flashing across his face.

He stepped inside the room, your eyes wide with fear, your breathing picking up rapidly. His face was distorted in discomfort. He may have been able to come inside, but he certainly wasn’t comfortable or at full strength. The demon part of him reacted negatively to the sigils and wardings around the room, his other half allowing him to at least step inside.

He looked up and turned around, eyeing the room with an impressed glint in his eye, his glossy black hair rippling like waves down his back as he moved. You backed up a few steps and kept the knife out, knowing it wouldn’t do any good against the hybrid in front of you.

“Very impressive,” Aamon murmured. He took a deep breath, a shoot of pain flashing through his body. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“Do what?”

“You either come with me willingly and I let your friends live. Or, you fight and lose. I still take you with me but they die a brutal, slow death,” He said, moving around the edge of the room. You moved back, keeping the wall to your backside and him always in front of you. “There’s an easy choice here, Y/N. I know which one you’ll make. But, I have to be honest with you, I hope you pick the more fun way.”

“I’m going to kill you,” You snarled. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

“No, love. I’m going to kill you. It’s just a matter of if it will be sooner rather than later. Now,-” His tone dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits, the iris’ burning orange flames within them- “What’s it gonna be?”

You looked down at the knife in your hand. You knew it was powerless against him. You couldn’t take him on your own, even if he was weakened. And you sure as hell wouldn’t let him kill your family.

You looked up at him again, tears brimming your eyes as you realized what was going to happen. Who you’d be leaving behind.

“You promise you’ll leave them alone?” You whispered. Aamon smirked at you, his head moving to give you a slow nod.

“I swear on my life.” You sniffed and set the knife down on the table, your heart breaking a bit more with each passing moment.

“Can I at least say goodbye?”

He thought for a moment and hesitated, his lips curling into a snarl. “Any funny business, they drop dead.”

“I understand.”

image  
Three hours later, you were sitting on the couch in the sitting room, your leg bouncing furiously as the clear instructions Aamon gave you rang in your head.

You were to say your goodbyes and walk outside where he’d grab you, taking you to god knows where, but leaving the men alone. You took a deep breath, trying to take comfort in that.

He’d leave them alone.

Before Dean, you were in a dark place. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t contemplate suicide, even more so after Dean had died. Carter was your rock, and when you had to burn her on that pyre, your world shattered, the one person you could count on the most turned to a pile of ash.

But then Dean swooped down and saved you from the pit you had fallen into. He had saved you from the crawling vines of your mind. He loved and worshiped you, turning your dark world brighter, bringing hope back to you.

But everything you loved would soon be ripped away again. Dean, Bobby, Sam. You knew after today you’d most likely never see them again. You’d probably be dead by the next morning. And your heart hurt like never before at the thought of leaving Dean. The pain inside your chest was crippling as you thought of your goodbye.

You jumped when the door opened, the three men walking in together. You got up from the couch and tried to regain your composure, putting a large smile on your face.

“Hey, boys!” You greeted them.

“Birdy, what the hell are you doing out of the panic room?” Bobby asked, your heart nearly shattering when you heard your nickname. Their faces were plastered with panic, making this ten times harder.

“Um… I wanted to see you guys,” You said.

“That’s not really an excuse,” Dean said.

“I know.” You nodded. “But, I just wanted to be with you for a little bit.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” Sam asked, his face etched with worry. You gave him a smile and a nod.

“Yeah.”

Bobby shrugged and moved into the kitchen, Dean giving you a strange look but following him.

“Hey, Sam?” You said. The youngest Winchester looked up at you and raised a brow.

“Yeah?”

“Um…” You took a few steps forward. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Okay,” He said.

“Take care of Dean. Make sure he takes care of himself. I need you to make sure… I need you to make sure he’s happy. That he’s taken care of and that he doesn’t drink himself to death.”

“Um, okay. You’re scaring me, Y/N/N.”

“Just… Promise me.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah. Okay, I promise.” You nodded and moved into the kitchen, venturing forth to say goodbye to your dad.

“Hey, dad?” You said walking up to him. “Can we talk real quick?” Bobby gave Dean a look but followed you into the next room, the brothers talking in hushed whispers. You took a deep breath and gave your dad a small smile before engulfing him in a hug.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked. You pulled back, your eyes teary.

“I just… Wanna say thank you,” You said. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, birdy but I’m not sure what is going on.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I want you to know that.” You gave him a nod and moved back into the kitchen, your stomach churning at what you were about to do. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach more violently with each step.

Sam had moved past you to talk to Bobby and you grabbed Dean’s arm, bringing him out of eye and earshot, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his harshly.

His hands gripped your waist as you melted against him, your lips moving in sync as his tongue caressed your own. Your own hands had moved to the sides of his neck, your fingers running through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“What was that for?” Dean asked when he pulled away breathlessly. You bit your lip. Trying your hardest to keep the tears at bay, failing miserably. His brows furrowed in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I… I want you to know that I love you, okay?” You said, tears streaming down your face as your heart broke more with each passing moment. “You’ve been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You saved me from myself, whether you know it or not and there are not enough thanks in the world for that. I need you to promise me, you’ll try to be happy. To fight, okay? Always keep fighting, no matter what, and remember that I love you.”

“You’re scaring me,” He whispered, fear written across his face. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him once more. It was similar to the kiss he had given you when he had said goodbye, one full of love and passion. It said all that needed to be said, and Dean realized that.

You pulled away and quickly made your way to the door, Dean calling your name fiercely when he realized what you were doing. The minute you were down the steps of the porch, Aamon appeared, placing a hand on your shoulder. You dared to look up at Dean, his face full of horror and shock, hurt and betrayal. Your knees were weak as you stood, watching the man you love look at you with such agony in his eyes. The pain in your chest grew and it became unbearable, your breaths coming in gasps as the tears continued to fall.

“You promised me,” He said softly. “You promised me that you’d fight!”

“He was going to kill you,” You choked. “All of you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I gave her a choice, boys,” Aamon said, his hand tightening on your shoulder until his nails dug painfully into your flesh. You let out a grunt and bit your lip as he continued to dig his nails in deeper. “And unfortunately, she chose the boring way. But we made a deal, and you will be unharmed. So, good luck with the apocalypse boys, but we’re gone.”

“No!” Dean barked, rushing forward.

You whispered an “I’m sorry,” and by the time Dean reached you, you were gone. Aamon had you, leaving Dean with a crumpled soul and a dozen different emotions, all in the angry and devastated range. He let out a loud growl and kicked a car piece to his left.

He’d find you, if it was the last thing he did. He swore to protect you, and he’d be damned if he let Aamon win. Because he loved you, dammit, and he was going to gut the son of a bitch that had you, who killed nearly every one you loved. He made you a promise, and he was sure as hell going to keep it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean raked a hand through his short cropped hair, a bottle of jack in the other hand and a large book on the table in front of him. You had been gone for nearly three days and the men had no leads on your whereabouts. Sam had to sit by and watch as his older brother went crazy, drinking himself through the day with his nose buried in every lore book he could find, desperately looking for Aamons name within one.

Sam flipped through a spell book across from Dean, his hazel eyes scanning each page carefully. It was an old grimoire, written by a witch in the early 1600’s. Elizabeth Gatton, one of the most powerful green witches that had ever walked the earth, had written down all of her spells in this book. It was easy magic, for it was used with herbs and energies, but the spells worked, and Sam hoped a few of them would be helpful for him.

Sam was desperate. You had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. He loved seeing you and Dean together, yourself and his brother needing love and something good in your lives. He loved you like a sister, and it would kill him if you died.

And then there was Bobby; you’re adoptive father who loved you more than anything. Granted, he loved the Winchester boys as his own. But you were different. You were the sunshine that came into his life after his wife died. You were the one who ultimately brought a smile back to his face. He was the one who held your hand when you got your first surgery. He was the one who watched with a wide smile as you had your first violin solo in your orchestra at age thirteen. He was the one who watched as you got your high school diploma, his gray blue eyes teary as his heart filled with absolute pride. He was the one who watched chick flicks with you and held you as you cried over your first heartbreak. Bobby Singer was the only father you had really ever had, and you were his only child. Just the thought of you in the hands of that evil son of a bitch made him sick to his stomach.

Sam sat with a picture of you in his hand. You were eleven years old then. He smiled at how young you looked. Your plump, rosy cheeks and short cropped, shiny hair stood out against the dullness of Sam’s own features. You were a bright spirit, noticeable in even photographs.

You had gone to live with Bobby a year prior the picture was taken and it was the first day you met the Winchesters. His eyes clouded over as he remembered the events that went down.

You were brushing your short cropped, H/C hair, your young eyes trained on yourself in the mirror. The soft creaks of Bobby’s old house calmed you as you swayed slightly to the song on the radio on your dresser.

“Birdy? Can you come down for a moment?” Bobby called. Your lips twitched at the nickname he began calling you and you set down your hairbrush, bounding down the stairs and into the library.

An unfamiliar man stood in the room. He had brown hair and brown eyes, a starting of a beard dusting his face. The hard look in his eyes made you cringe, and you took Bobby’s hand in your own.

“Who’s this, Bobby?” The man asked, his gravelly voice piercing your ears.

“Y/N,” Bobby answered. He glanced down at you for a moment. “She’s my daughter.”

“Daughter?” Another voice said. A young boy, around thirteen walked into the room then, a sandwich in hand.

“I’m adopted,” You said, all the men looking down at you at the sound of your bell like voice. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N-Singer, pleased to meet you.”

The man smiled. “I’m John Winchester. This here is one of my boys, Sam.” Sam nodded at you and gave a friendly smile, taking another bite of his sandwich, his shaggy hair flopping at the movement.

“And I’m Dean,” Said yet another voice. Dean walked in, a beer and his own sandwich in hand. His green eyes locked on yours, a kind smile quickly spreading on his face. “You’re tiny!”

“You’re just big,” You bit back. Sam sniggered and you earned a smirk from Dean and a nod of approval.

“You got a nice kid here, Bobby,” He said.

“I know.” Bobby squeezed your hand.

“Hey kid, wanna go play outside?” Sam asked. You furrowed your brows and looked up at Bobby.

“Go ahead,” He said. You smiled and took off with Sam hot on your heels.

“So where are your parents?” Sam asked, his stick drawing designs in the dirt. The hot sun beat down on you two, baking the ground and your skin. You took a deep breath and began drawing the petals of your flower.

“They’re dead,” You said. “Bobby took me in. He’s more of a dad then my biological one anyway.”

“He’s a good guy.” Sam nodded. “How old are you?”

“Eleven,” You answered. “You?”

“Fourteen. Dean’s eighteen.”

“Where’s your mom?” You asked.

“Dead.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“‘S okay. I never really knew her.” He shrugged sadly. “How’d your parents die?”

“A demon,” You said. “He was looking for me but found them instead.”

“Oh.”

“How’d your mom die?” You asked.

“A demon set her on fire on the ceiling of my nursery.”

“Oh… Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice rang through the junkyard. Sam sighed and got up, you following him. “Sam! Time to go!”

“I gotta run,” Sam said. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“Right back at ya,” You said. He gave you a quick hug and jogged over to his brother.

Bobby took a picture of you and Sam when the two of you weren’t paying attention. Your arms were around each other, embracing the blossoming friendship with open arms and warmed hearts.

***

Sam smiled at the memory. He thought you were a neat little kid. You were sarcastic and witty, but kind and gentle at the same time. Every now and again, the Winchesters would roll through town and the brothers became closer to you. He watched you grow, watched as your small crush for his older brother evolved into something much deeper. He had been rooting for you two since you were eighteen.

“I’ve got something,” Bobby said, his voice breaking Sam’s train of thought. The brothers glanced at each other and then got up from their seats, striding over to the older man. The peered over his shoulders, their eyes focusing on the page of the book he was reading.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Aamon. He’s a hybrid all right,” Bobby said. He let out a breath and shook his head. “Shoulda seen it coming.”

“Seen what coming?” Sam asked. The boys sat at the table with Bobby, their eyes trained intensely on the man as he began to tell Aamon’s story.

“Aamon is one of the oldest demons to ever live. He was in charge of his own legion in hell’s ‘military’. He’s the only hybrid Demon, which means there’s got to be some flaws to his making. Basically, Aamon’s hybrid side is partially dormant. It’s not at full power. However, there’s a spell that can be casted to awaken the hybrid side, bringing forth its full potential, inevitably leading to Aamon being one of the most powerful beings out there.”

“So, where does Y/N fall into all this?” Sam questioned.

“Well, for the spell to be casted, there are a handful of ingredients needed. For example-” He glanced down at the book- “Sulfur, hellebore, dragon’s blood, claw of a Chimera-”

“A Chimera?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Like, the greek mythological Chimera?”

“Yes, idjit, now can I read please?” Bobby gruffed. Sam slumped in his chair and let Bobby read. “And extracted Angel’s grace from an indirect source.”

“An indirect source?” Sam furrowed his brows.

“Yeah, which basically, it says here, can come from anywhere other that directly from an angel.”

“I still don’t understand where Y/N falls into all this,” Dean said. Sam and Bobby looked at each other, understanding suddenly dawning on the green eyes hunter’s face when he saw the looks his companions gave each other.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Dean choked. He felt as though his chest was tightening, fear and anxiety hitting him like a tidal wave as he suddenly felt the walls closing in on him. “She’s got the angel grace? She’s the final ingredient?”

Bobby nodded, a sullen weight falling heavy on all the men’s shoulders. No wonder Aamon had been so desperate to get to her. She was the final ingredient, the final key to unlocking his true powers.

“But there’s something else,” Bobby said.

“Jesus.” Sam dropped his head into his hands, his heart crashing in his chest with pure fear.

Bobby gulped and took a steadying breath, knowing that what he was about to say would be a game changer. He knew that the brothers would do anything to save Y/N, especially Dean, but with what came with Aamon’s spell, Bobby wasn’t sure even the Winchesters could stop him.

So gathering up his courage, he licked his lips and looked up at the boys. “Since hybrids are so rare and the spell is so tedious and powerful, unlocking a hybrid’s other side, allowing it to come to full power, is one of the potential sixty-six seals that could break Lucifer from Hell. If Aamon is successful, it’s not only allowing something incredibly dangerous into the world, but it’s allowing the devil himself one step closer to getting topside.”


	11. Chapter 11

Aamon was restless. The moon was to rise in a little less than two hours, which means that the ritual had to be prepped and ready to go by then.

It had been nearly a week and a half since he had taken you from your home. A week and a half of hearing your sarcastic and smart-ass remarks. He couldn’t hurt you, for he needed you for the ritual, so he simply ignored you. He brought you food that you left untouched for nearly five days before you got so hungry, you scarfed down anything you could. He locked you in a room, but it was suited to your comforts. A large canopy bed sat against one of the walls, a large bathroom with a jet tub was off to the right and the room was lit during the day by windows making up two of the walls, overlooking a deep valley of lush, green, snow topped trees and tall grasses. Blue mountains sat far in the distance, the sun waking you each morning by peeking over them, spreading its rose tipped fingers across the land and into the valley below. A tall bookshelf inhabited much of the east wall of the room by the locked door, full of various genres and languages, all ranging from different time periods. They were your only form of entertainment in your confinement to the room and you had already read close to a third of them.

A knock sounded on your door and you lept off your bed, standing straight and tall as Aamon walked in, his jet black hair moving like waves down his back and around his shoulders as he walked. “Hello, love.”

“Come to kill me yet?” You asked. He sighed, shaking his head.

“You ask me that everyday, yet the answer is all the same,” He said. “‘Not quite, but you just wait’. But, unfortunately for you, today is the day.” He smiled at you and held out his hand. You eyed it suspiciously, taking a small step forward.

Just as you had planned for the last week and a half, you brought the jagged piece of metal you had broken off your bed and jabbed it into his neck, pushing him down and sprinting from the room. He let out a growl of rage, a crimson fountain spouting from the side of his neck from where he pulled the metal from his flesh.

“You won’t get far, Y/N/!” He yelled. You panted as you sprinted down the twisting hallways, turning into corridor after corridor, desperately searching for a way out. You seemed to be in a castle almost, the walls cobblestone, torches lighting the your way.

A large wood door sat at the end of the hall and you sprinted as fast as you could, pumping your arms and breathing heavily as you ran. You smashed into it, pulling on the handle.

“Come on!” You yanked at the locked door as hard as you could, glancing behind your shoulder. Your impending doom was almost set in stone and your heart raced in your chest at the mere thought of it. You gave yourself up, yes, but the thought of you dying in merely two hours set fear deep within you. You weren’t ready to die, not without seeing Dean one last time.

Your thoughts were cut short when a hand tangled itself in your hair, yanking your head back, your throat exposed to the monster above you.

Aamon’s eyes burned like embers, his lips curling back over his teeth, multiple sets of dagger sharp canines breaking through his gums. Your eyes widened as you watched the new teeth peek through.

He bent down, latching his teeth into your flesh. You screamed at the searing pain, your skin breaking easily, your blood flowing hot into his awaiting mouth. He drank deeply before lapping at his fresh bite, throwing you to the ground. You brought your hand up and pressed it against your neck, backing up down the hall and away from him. He brought his hand up and wiped his mouth, smearing your blood across his lips and staining his ashen skin.

“Holy… Shit…” You croaked. He smiled down at you, his fangs retracting back into his gums.

“I’m anything but holy, love,” He said. He gripped your hair and tugged you up. You groaned and hit at his chest, but he only chuckled. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N, but you left me no choice. You disobeyed, which means you needed to be punished.”

“You’re… A demon-vampire? How the fuck?”

“We need to work on your language. I don’t want you using the last hours of your life letting filthy words spew from that beautiful mouth.” He smirked down at you as he dragged you down the hall, his hand tightly gripping your hair.

image  
“This may work,” Bobby said. “But I’ve never done it before.”

“Just do it,” Dean snapped, his pacing beginning to annoy Sam. Bobby sighed and set the large spell book on his desk, flitting about the room gathering ingredients.

“You should have called your angel friend,” Bobby grumbled.

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Dean hissed. “I screamed myself hoarse in the junkyard. The junkless bastard won’t get down here.”

“Excellent.” Bobby replied dryly. He placed his bowl in the center of the desk and layed the ingredients out. His stomach was clenched tightly with anxiety and he had to resist the urge to drink himself to a stupor. You were the apple of his eye, the only reason he hadn’t committed suicide years ago. He loved you with every inch of his being. You may not have been his biologically, but you were his daughter, the only thing keeping him sane. The only thing that brought him happiness and love.

He carefully measured each needed ingredient and poured them in carefully. It had taken him the whole week you had been gone to find a spell that had at least a fifty percent chance of working. Keeping his fingers crossed, he grabbed the map, pouring the potion over the parchment. Taking a match, he lit it, dropping it onto the corner. The map burst into flames, the orange blaze going around the edge of the map.

“Inveniet eam,” Bobby said. The flames roared, raising high and tall. The old hunter cringed from the heat, watching the map burn and flake away, leaving a small circle of wrinkled parchment. He glanced up at the boys before looking down at it.

“She’s in the state, somewhere in the Black Hills.”

“The mountains?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

Dean jumped up, automatically grabbing the small piece of map and heading towards the door. “Let’s find her. Let’s find my Y/N.”

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“So I know what you are now,” You said. You sat in a metal chair, your hands cuffed to the arm rests and your ankles bound to the legs. Aamon stood a few yards from you, preparing for the spell. “You mind letting me know where I come in to all this?

Aamon sighed, his blue eyes flicking up to you. “If I must,” He muttered. “As you know now, I’m half vampire, half demon. A ‘Sato daevam’ if you please. We’re an incredibly rare species. I’m the only living one at the moment. But you… You are the key to unlocking my true potential.”

“How?” You asked shaking your head. “How can I possibly be the key.”

“The spell requires harvested angelic grace from an indirect source. One of many ingredients of the spell. You, my dear, have that. Have you ever wondered how you heal slightly faster than other people? How you have this… Spiritual feeling? How you make everyone around you happier? You’ve got angel grace in you, love. And I need it.”

“What will the spell unlock?” You murmured.

“Excellent question, my dear. As of now, I cannot create new Sato daevams. I can’t drink the copious amounts of blood I always crave, for the vampire part of me is still partly human, and I’ll get sick. That being said, the part of the vampire that is still human doesn’t have full power. I’m not as strong, I can be killed. But once I cast the spell… Oh, Y/N, you won’t believe what I’ll be capable of. I’ll be unstoppable. And once I become at full power and the spell is completed, one of the seals will be broken, inevitably taking us one step closer to freeing our rightful king.”

“Lucifer,” You breathed. Your heart clenched, tears welling in your eyes. Not only will you break a seal, you’ll be the key to unleashing an immortal creature into the world. One that will no doubt rein absolute terror on the world. And you’ll be at fault for it.

“So,” Aamon said, holding up a silver tipped knife, the moonlight gleaming through the skylight, shining perfectly on the silvery blade. “What do you say we get started?”


	12. The Final Chapter

“I still don’t understand,” You said. You were stalling, asking questions to keep him occupied. He mixed a few ingredients inside a bowl, measuring everything precisely before dumping it inside. “How do I have angel grace? My biological parents were human.” 

Aamon glanced up at you, ignoring your question and walking over to you. He reached over and plucked a hair from your head, inspecting it and walking back over to his bowl, dropping it in.

“An angel had injected their grace inside of you when you were a baby,” Aamon said. “He had done it to hide his grace. It was traceable, you see. He had disobeyed heaven, hiding it into an infant- you. It’s dormant and deep, but the angels found you nonetheless. Of course, the angel who the grace belonged to was smart. You were a baby, a newborn life that the angels wouldn’t take. But they had trouble extracting the grace within you and they left some.”

“The angel who gave it to me… He’s dead?” You asked.

“Oh yes,” Aamon said. “He died long ago. An angel blade through the heart. And when he died, the angels had done their job, leaving you with a residual grace that they didn’t bother cleaning up.” He sighed, his crystal blue eyes scanning the large, leather bound book atop the table in front of him. He walked over to you again, a knife now in his hand. Panic swelled in your chest at the sight but he slice himself, using his fingers to draw intricate symbols in a circle around you.

You twisted your hands in the cuffs, trying to see if there was any leeway. But there wasn’t. The metal dug into your skin painfully and red welts soon showed up on your delicate skin.

You knew there was no getting out of this. Aamon had searched for you for so long, trying desperately to get you in his grasp. Yet each time through the years, you had slipped away, your life almost in his ashen hands, but you always managed to get away at the last second, leaving him back at square one. But then he had found you again. After murdering Carter in cold blood, he knew you’d be sloppy. And you were. You had forgotten one of your hex bags one day. One you always had in your back pocket. But you had washed your jeans, being too caught up in Carter’s death to remember to put it back in your pocket. And with that tiny sliver in your warding, Aamon was able to peek through, capturing a glimpse of where you were located.

But it had always ended up that way.

Andrew Graten was your first boyfriend and your first everything. He had loved you with every inch he had and that’s what got him killed. Aamon had found him one night, gutting him after he demanded he told him where you were. But Andrew refused, and Aamon had left your boyfriend’s house covered in crimson.

Your parents were killed when you were ten. You were at school when Aamon showed up. Your father had quickly sent one of his old friends, Bobby, a message, telling him something was going down and to take care of you, that Aamon had finally found them. The hybrid drank your parents dry and waited for your arrival. One that never came, since Bobby went and got you from your elementary school.

Aamon had always been right on your tail. And everyone around you had died. Their blood was on your hands and you never forgave yourself for any of their deaths. Which is why you so easily gave into Aamon’s deal. You couldn’t allow another person to be murdered because of you.

But honestly, you were also tired. You spent your whole life running and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You wanted it to be over. Of course, you’d rather it be Aamon’s life that ended, but if it meant the people you loved were going to be safe and you wouldn’t have to run anymore, you were content with your life ending, for there was time you may have done it yourself.

Aamon snapped you out of your thoughts as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you could look at him. He smiled down at you, his fangs poking through his gums.

“I want to thank you. It’s because of you that we’ll be one step closer to rising our king and allowing my powers to be brought to full potential. It’s because of you that I’ll be one of the most powerful creatures to walk the planet.” He kissed your forehead, making you cringe in disgust.

You spit in his face when he pulled back.

He released your hair, your scalp aching, and he made his way over to the table. “It’s time, love.”

He looked up into the skylight, the moon directly above you now, its silvery light casting an eerie glow into the dim room. He licked his finger and turned the page of his book, the old paper crinkling at the movement, and he began to read.

“Locutus sum ergo ad caelum et infernum. Da lunae patiuntur lumine solis calore mihi,” His voice bounced off the cobblestone walls, echoing in your ears. You struggled against your bindings, knowing it was no use.

“Non est me. Im ‘potestate. Demones inferni, angelis caeli.”

Your heart began to race as sweat began to bead on the back of your neck. You whined a bit as you struggled, the feeling of utter defeat sinking down into the pit of your stomach.

“Victimae meae tibi placere posse adduci patiar.”

Your head began to feel fuzzy as the symbols began to glow.

“Et sanguis te, et tu de sanguine ego dabo vobis pro me-”

Aamon snapped his head over to the door as it suddenly burst open. His blue eyes flickered to their burning orange color as he snarled, baring his fangs to the intruders.

Sam and Bobby stared horrified at the sight of them, while Dean’s eyes were on you; staring vacantly with milky eyes, blood seeping from the corner of your mouth, glowing symbols surrounding you.

“You fools!” Aamon growled.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, freak,” Dean hissed. “But I’d prefer my girlfriend alive. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh yes,” Aamon spit. “I understand. But I’m afraid I can’t deliver.”

Sam charged then, the blade of Ruby’s knife gleaming in the moonlight. He slashed at Aamon, who dodged the attack gracefully. The knife wouldn’t do any good of course, but it would distract the hybrid from Dean rescuing you.

Meanwhile, Bobby worked on breaking the symbols. He grabbed his own knife, scratching through the blood, breaking the circle, the glow dying down to nothing. Your eyes returned to their normal E/C color and you slumped in your chair with a groan.

“Hey, baby,” Dean said, cupping your face. The spell had exhausted you, the draining of your life force taking a toll on you. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“No, Dean,” You croaked as he picked the locks on the cuffs. He ignored you, cutting the ropes off your legs before pressing a quick kiss to your lips and helping you out of the chair, ready to get you out of there.

But he didn’t make it far.

Aamon grasped onto the collar of his jacket, yanking him back and throwing Dean behind him. You stumbled backwards, holding your hands out in front of you. Your eyelids were droopy and you struggled to even stay awake, but you continued to fight, knowing you had to. For Dean.

Dean rushed Aamon, sending them both to the ground. The hybrid snarled and snapped at the older Winchester, his fangs grazing your boyfriend’s neck, a cut appearing on his skin.

Aamon laughed maniacally, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“You taste delicious, Deano,” Aamon said. He looked over at you, his orange eyes flames in the low light of the room, a smirk tugging at his blood tainted lips. “Taste almost as good as your girlfriend. Tell me, is her blood as sweet as her cunt? I haven’t gotten the chance find out for myself yet.”

Dean brought his fist back, rearing it into the Hybrid’s face. He did that again, and again, and again, his fist soon becoming bloody and bruised.

Aamon laughed, blood seeping through his teeth. “I see why she likes you so much, Dean,” He said. “You’ve got bite. Unfortunately, it seems you don’t have much brain. Fugere dorsum!”

Dean was suddenly shot through the air like a bullet from a pistol, his back slamming into the cobblestone wall. Aamon looked at Bobby and Sam, doing the same thing until they were pinned against the wall, thrashing against the invisible hold. He bent down, using his blood to re-apply the symbols, the glow reappearing, as did the sickening smile on his lips.

You swayed on your feet, a wave of dizziness crashing over you like waves on rocks, and Aamon swiftly reached out and grabbed ahold of you, pulling you tightly against his chest.

“Well boys, I suppose we’re going to have to do this the fast way,” Aamon said. He moved your head to the side, exposing your neck, the bite he gave you earlier scabbing over. He briskly sunk his teeth into the wound, your eyes squeezing shut at the searing pain it brought. You cried out, tears pricking your eyes as he drank deeply.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean roared. Aamon’s fangs retracted and he lapped at the wound. He smiled up at the men, licking his lips clean of your blood.

“Don’t talk about my mother like that, boy,” Aamon said mockingly. Your limbs felt like led hanging from your body. You were tired and quickly fading and you knew the end was close. You brought your eyes up to meet Dean’s, his green eyes full of agony.

“Now, where were we?” Aamon whispered into your ear. “Oh yes, the spell. We’re so close to the end, love. Just a little longer.”

“No!” Dean growled. Aamon smiled up at him before finishing the spell, your fear so profound, you felt physical pain in your chest. You watched Dean’s eyes well up with tears, knowing this was the end.

“Pro inferno; Nam ego do tibi. Iam tecum est sacrificiorum pertinentes. Potestas mea!” The symbols grew brighter and a burning pain split through your head, ripping a scream from your throat. Aamon laughed, his face lit up with absolute joy as the thought of finally being whole sunk into his heart.

He reached behind him, retrieving the long, golden knife from the sheath attached to his belt. He gave a few kitten licks to your neck as the pain in your head began to die down, leaving you gasping and with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Dean watched panic stricken as Aamon brought the tip of the blade to rest at your back. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he knew this was it. The woman he loved was going to die, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t save her. His emerald eyes, the eyes you had fallen so in love with, locked with yours and you found tranquility in them, your fear fading away as you kept your gaze on the man you had fallen for all those years ago.

“I love you,” Dean croaked. His tears flowed like rivers down his cheeks. You let out a shaky breath, your own tears dripping down onto the stone floor beneath you. Your heart began to shatter at the look he gave you, knowing this was the last time you’d see the man you loved again. So giving him a small smile, you allowed the fear and haunting thoughts to drift away from your mind, finding solace in Dean Winchester’s eyes.

“I know,” You said. Your last words cut through Dean like a hot rod, bringing him back to that first time you had told him you loved him. He watched as you gave him a small nod. And he watched as your lips curled into a tiny, reassuring smile. And then lastly, Dean watched in horror as Aamon brought his arm back, plunging the blade through your back and into your heart.


End file.
